


121 Days

by Impala_Cherry_Trickster



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Azazel is a dick, Castiel & Sam Winchester Friendship, Good Big Brother Michael, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Kidnapped Sam Winchester, M/M, Professor Azazel, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Gabriel, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Self-Harm, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-04-23 13:01:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 14,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19151533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Cherry_Trickster/pseuds/Impala_Cherry_Trickster
Summary: Soulmarks are pure things, and when Dean meets his mate, he couldn't be happier. The issue is his little brother, who doesn't have a mark, and has been hiding from Dean for the past three years. When Castiel and Sam become close friends, can the Novak work out what's wrong with Sam before he gets hurt?





	1. Welcome

Soulmarks were supposed to make people happy. They were supposed to assure people that someone was out there for them. Most people had soulmarks as soon as their soulmate was born, or as soon as they were born if they were younger. Other times, they slowly developed, but that was rare. A mark could be anything, anywhere on the body, and was proof of destiny. The side effects of the mark was that anything that happened to your body, physically, would appear on the other’s.

It was slightly complex. For example, someone could write down a list on their hand, and it would appear on their soulmate. It would not work if it was anything that could be used to identify the other, no names, no phone numbers, no addresses. No descriptions of what they looked like, or where they came from. Other things sometimes passed through the bond, bruises, cuts. But they didn’t hurt the other person, just appeared.

Dean Winchester had a soulmark from his third year. So, his soulmate, whoever they were, was three years younger. The mark was a tiny bumblebee, it sat just below his collarbone, and whenever Dean felt sad, he would sit and trace it, wondering what his mark looked like, what his soulmate looked like. Unfortunately for Dean’s mate, the Winchester got in a lot of fights. Mostly with his dad, trying to protect his younger brother, Sammy.

John Winchester was an alcoholic, the loss of his soulmate driving him insane. If that wasn’t bad enough, he blamed Sam for her death. It was, in a way, true. Mary Winchester had got postpartum depression, which nobody noted until it escalated beyond belief. When John Winchester found his wife hanging in the nursery, her body hovering over the edge of his youngest Son, he went mad.

Then there was Sam. Sam, who by the time he had reached fifteen, did not have a soulmate mark. It was possible that it was just a large age-gap, but Dean knew that probably wasn’t the case. His brother was unmarked, he didn’t have a soulmate. Combined with an aggressive John Winchester, and the constant telling that he was responsible for his mother’s death, Sam Winchester was not a happy person.

Dean tried everything. At nineteen, he worked at the local Mechanics. He lived with his brother in an apartment in Lawrence, which was nice, but Sam was rarely around anymore. It was like he had vanished, the moment Dean dragged them away from John three years ago, after finding Sammy bleeding out in a pool of blood, piss and alcohol, he shut down. Dean tried everything, but nothing seemed to be working. It was like his little brother wasn’t in there, like he was a hollow shell walking around.

It didn’t stop Dean from trying. Or Bobby, the Uncle-figure who ran the Mechanic shop. Together, combined with Bobby’s wife, Ellen, and the Sheriff, Jody, they tried to find a way to help the younger boy. Dean worked hard, hoping if he saved up enough money, he could afford to take them both away for a while. That had always been the plan, to find somewhere that Sam wanted to go, to relax.

Then, four months before the incident that nobody could predict, Dean Winchester saw someone walk into the Mechanic’s shop, a tattoo on his upper arm. It was a car, a Chevy Impala, like the one Dean owned. It took the Mechanic three seconds to roll out from under the car he was tending to, walking across to the boy, and someone who appeared to be an elder brother.

‘Can I help you?’ He inquired, looking to the eldest, then to the younger. Blue eyes, stunningly bright, and dark black hair. Dean knew he should stop staring, but honestly, he couldn’t get past the fact that this guy was stunning.

‘We’ve just moved in, the name’s Michael. This is my younger brother, Castiel. There’s two more of us, we were wondering if you could have a look at our car?’ Dean organised a time with the eldest of the Novak family, writing it down in the book as the Novak explained that they had moved into the town, that Castiel would be attending the local school. Dean listened, before he heard Bobby shout something about picking a part up at 7. Dean apologised to Michael, who chuckled and stated it was fine.

Dean wrote it down on his hand, 7pm, then thanked the two. Knowing he would see them next week when they brought the car in, he walked to the back of the office. Castiel Novak, he mused, was a good-looking person. If he had stayed out front, he would have seen Castiel look down at his hand, see the 7pm written in the same red ink, then would have seen him show it to Michael. The eldest Novak grinned, walking them back to their new house, wanting to tell the other two.

Dean didn’t know any of that, finished his shift, then returned to his apartment. Sam was in his room, the door locked, as usual. He didn’t try to unlock it, didn’t even attempt to knock on the door. He went straight to the shower, washed off the grease and the ink, before stepping out. He went to the sink, shaving cream ready to clean his face. When he rose his hand, the reflection caught his eye. Green eyes focused on the back of his hand, staring at the words.

“A Mechanic, hey?” Was all it said, and Dean thought back to Castiel, thought back to the 67’ Chevy Impala on his arm, and everything seemed to click. A soulmate, he mused. His soulmate, who happened to run into him when Dean was covered in sweat, grease and oil. It was a pretty unfortunate meeting, he thought, but it wasn’t going to deter him. Not many rejected a soulmark, and he was sure that he could make this work. After all, he’d seen Castiel straight away, found himself staring right at those blue eyes.

It did not mean he would take this lightly. Dean Winchester was not going to rush this, not at all. He was going to make this work, and that started by formally asking him on a date. Dean took a pen, started writing just below the mark that Castiel had made.

‘My new neighbour.’ He wrote back, clicking the pen shut and looking to Sam’s room. He wanted to go across, to knock on the door and tell his little brother what he had found. When they were little, it had been all they were interested in. What their soulmate would look like, the hair colour, eye colour, gender. Sam had been just as interested, but it had faded around his ninth birthday, until Sam wouldn’t even entertain the notion that he had someone out there waiting for him.

Dean walked to his little brother’s room, heard the muffled sound of crying on the other side, and slumped against the door. One thing solved, but another problem that he still didn’t know how to fix.


	2. Happy Dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically getting to know the characters.

**112 days to go**

Dean was going on a date. An actual date. He stared down at his clothes, then grabbed the keys to the Impala. Tonight, he was taking Castiel out, for their first official date. After fixing the car last week, Dean had picked up the courage to ask. Now, he drove across to the Novak household. He parked, got out of the car and walked to the door. He didn’t know a lot about the Novaks, just that the three elder siblings were all older than Dean, the closest being Gabriel.

He knocked twice, and was relieved when Castiel opened the door. He grinned, noting the faint blush on his date’s cheeks, before offering out an arm.

‘Shall we, Mr Novak?’ Castiel chuckled lowly, but slipped his arm through anyway, and they walked to the car.

**

‘Wait, your brother is called Lucifer?’ Dean stated, looking at him in disbelief. Castiel laughed, twirling the spaghetti around his fork.

‘Technically, Lucian, but he prefers Lucifer.’ Dean whistled lowly, from what he had heard, he was slightly jealous of the family. Dean tried to avoid topics to do with his brother and Dad, worried that Castiel would run away before he even got the chance to talk to him properly.

‘So, how’s school?’ Dean mocked gently, knowing Castiel hated being younger. Sure enough, the Novak sent him a glare, but answered honestly. It was pleasant to talk to him, it was a lot easier than Dean had first feared. From what his Dad had told him, it was easy to talk to your soulmate. They were destined to be yours, so it was easy to understand them.

It didn’t mean that Dean wasn’t nervous. He hid it well, keeping humour to diffuse tension. Castiel talked a little of his father, who travelled for business with his mother, hence why he was living with his brothers.

‘They were pretty mad that I found my soulmate first.’ Castiel remarked, and Dean chuckled, then remembered that Michael was twenty-nine. To have your sixteen-year-old sibling beat you to the end of the race? Ouch.

‘I’m not complaining.’ Dean stated, wiggling his eyebrows. Castiel snorted, sipping the soda that he was drinking, before continuing.

‘Michael’s mark is pretty weird, a pint of beer. Then there’s Lucifer, who’s symbol is a skull.’ Dean muttered a “fitting” under his breath, earing a light pout from his… boyfriend? Would it be official by the end of the night? Dean wasn’t going to rush things, considering the age gap, but he did like the idea of Castiel being his boyfriend.

‘What about Gabriel?’ Dean inquired, taking the last bite of his dinner. Castiel did the same, sitting back.

‘He doesn’t have one. He got tested, found out that one will develop.’ It was expensive, testing, but they could find out if you were destined to have a mate. They didn’t have the money for Sam to be tested, but even if they did, Sam wouldn’t want it.

‘That’s pretty rare.’ Dean commented. It was even rarer than people not having a mate, which was surprising. Castiel nodded, before gently inquiring,

‘Does your brother have a mark?’ It was a topic they hadn’t really broached the entire night, Sam.

‘Er, no. He doesn’t.’ Dean said awkwardly, thinking to the boy he had left in his bedroom, not talking to him again. Castiel changed the topic quickly, the two of them sharing a dessert, not mentioning Sam again. By the time Dean pulled up to the Novak household, he had completely forgotten the earlier blunder. Stepping out, he walked round and opened Castiel’s door, much to his amusement. He walked him to the door like a gentleman, kissing his cheek once. There, that was appropriate.

‘Friday night?’ Dean asked hopefully, and Castiel smiled.

‘Friday night sounds perfect.’ Dean waved goodbye, walked back to his car, the same as the mark on Castiel’s shoulder, as he tried to work out where he was going to take Castiel.

**

The apartment was dark when he walked in, except the flicker of the TV that Sam usually left on when Dean wasn’t home. He didn’t ask why his brother did it, knew it had something to do with a fear of being left alone. He walked to his brother’s room, peeked in to check the kid was still alive. Sure enough, Sam was curled under a mountain of blankets. Dean smiled to himself, clicking the door shut and walking to his room.

He had work in the morning, so he really should be going to sleep, but instead he picked up his phone. He wondered if it was too early to text Castiel, but grinned when he found he already had a message.

**Cas: Thanks for the evening, Dean**

**Dean: No problem, I’m glad you enjoyed it. Now sleep, you’ve got school** **😊**

He could basically see Castiel pouting at the message, putting the phone on silent and getting ready for bed. He chuckled to himself, thinking back to the night, and how amazing it had been. It seemed like life was finally picking up, even after everything that had gone wrong.

**

The next day, Dean was working hard in the garage. He hadn’t seen Sam that morning, waking too late to say goodbye to his little brother, but he made sure to reach Bobby’s by the right time. The old man gruffed, but didn’t say anything as Dean walked in. He smiled to himself, looking through the list of today’s jobs.

‘Wipe that smile of, idgit. It’s only been one date.’ Bobby didn’t mean it badly, in fact, there was a smile on his face as he spoke. Dean’s grin grew, Bobby huffing a laugh as he walked across the Garage, and Dean slipped under the car.

**

Had Dean looked properly in his little brother’s room, he might have seen the cigarettes on the side. He might have seen the pocketknife that had been a gift from Dean for Sam’s tenth birthday, stained red with blood. He might have seen his phone, which Sam had thrown in the corner, not wanting to look at it anymore. But Dean didn’t see any of those things, and so Sam’s secret was preserved.


	3. Sam's Issue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting Sam

**109 days to go**

Sam walked through the school, ignoring most of the people in the hallway. It was a common occurrence, he had no need to talk to most of them, and so he didn’t bother. If he did, they would think him a freak, and he really didn’t want that to happen. He shifted the bag that sat on his shoulder, painfully aware of the bruises on his shoulders. It was a stupid fight with one of Ruby’s gang, who were teaching him a lesson for saying no to the evil girl.

Truthfully, Sam couldn’t really say yes. He was hiding too much to even think about getting that close to someone, so he didn’t really try. It was annoying that Dean kept trying, but now that he had found his soulmate, Sam knew Dean would stop trying. That was good news. Originally, the plan had been for Sam to get the best grades he could, then go to College, as far away from here as possible. With him gone, Dean wouldn’t have to keep pretending to care. After all, Dean knew just as well as Sam did that he was the reason they didn’t have parents.

Sam knew the nightmares weren’t real, that a sixth-month-old baby couldn’t remember his mother hanging from the ceiling fan, but they always seemed real. It probably didn’t help that John Winchester had basically told him every day, shouted at him until the angry vein on the side of his head stood out. It had taken Sam nine years to realise that was why he didn’t have a soulmate, that he didn’t deserve one. When Dean had found Sam on the night that John had gone too far, according to Dean, Sam thought things would be different. That his brother would get the life he deserved.

Things didn’t work that way. Sam didn’t get better, in fact, his head got worse. The nightmares, the feelings that he couldn’t shake. Sam had tried so hard to keep his grades up, thought that if he just kept trying, that eventually it had to go away. Then he’d got on Ruby’s bad side, ended up being pushed down a flight of stairs and had to limp home, locking himself away so Dean didn’t worry. Unfortunately, his luck continued to go downhill.

The cigarettes were from a guy called Brady, one that kept ogling Sam like he wanted more than the cash Sam forked out for the stress-reliever. The pocketknife was insurance, for when he couldn’t cope with just the smell and taste of smoke. His Dad hadn’t believed in smoking, had always opted for alcohol, so Sam found it hard to stomach the stuff.

But now that Dean had Castiel, it was just further proof that Sam was in the way. The night that Dean had found out, Sam had considered telling him the latest issue, the one he wasn’t sure he could escape from. He’d worked up the courage to get to the door, before he peeped through the hole and had seen Dean writing on his hand, had seen his face light up. Sam had figured it out, and then he had kept the secret hidden.

Dean explaining Castiel to him was funny, because he knew Dean was apologetic for the fact that Sam did not have a mark. It would have once made Sam’s stomach twist in jealousy, but he now saw Castiel as someone that could help Dean. He just needed to make sure Dean didn’t find out about Azazel.

Sorry, Professor Walker. Sam’s teacher, who had called him in six months ago to tell him that he thought Sam could do great things. Sam had listened, then listened as Azazel told Sam that his grade could drop quite quickly, if the Professor didn’t like him. When his hand had touched Sam’s shoulder, the Winchester had understood pretty quickly.

Now logically, he knew that it was wrong. But then again, he really needed to get to College. And Azazel wasn’t doing a lot, just the occasional hand wandering across his torso, skimming under his shirt. Taking Sam’s hand and putting it places. He really had been going to tell Dean after the last meeting, where he had ended up with a dark bruise on his throat from where Azazel pinned him to the wall. But then he realised that Castiel was proof that Dean deserved better, and so Sam did not tell his brother about his teacher.

He upped the use of the cigarettes and the knife, the relief being enough to get through to him. Smoking under the bleachers, avoiding Ruby at all costs, and ending up being stopped after every one of Azazel’s classes. In fact, right now, stalking through the corridors, he was trying to avoid Professor Walker. He didn’t want to admit to being scared, but his heart was racing, and Sam was longing to smoke.

‘You’re Sam, right?’ Sam stopped in his tracks, looking to the side. Blue eyes met his, stunningly bright, and he realised this must be Castiel. He panicked internally, knowing that he couldn’t turn him down, knew that he had to make sure Castiel didn’t suspect anything. He worried that the bruises on his wrists would be visible, that the perfect Castiel would have x-ray vision, would be able to see the litany of cuts.

‘Yeah, you’re Castiel? It’s nice to meet you.’ Sam offered a genuine smile, which Castiel returned, before Sam heard the familiar footsteps. He went to excuse himself, but a hand clamped to his shoulder, and he looked to the man next to him. Sam wasn’t small, in fact, he was shooting up in height. That didn’t mean he wanted to be tall, not when he just wanted to hide.

‘Mr Winchester, I was expecting you in my Office.’ Azazel calmly stated, the not-quite yellow eyes looking at him. Sam apologised to Castiel, tried to hide his shaking hands, then followed the Professor back in the direction he had been trying to run from. Thinking logically, Sam knew this couldn’t continue. He needed a way out, one that he could use without getting anyone in trouble.

Azazel walked him into the classroom, shutting the door and turning to him. He walked to the desk, took out one of Sam’s most recent papers, then put it on the desk. Sam, regretfully, looked at it. The C wouldn’t usually be a big deal for most people, apart from the fact he knew that that paper should have been an A, which meant Azazel wanted something.

‘Now, how about you make up for that Grade, hmm?’


	4. Tutors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I just wanted to say, this will be a Dark Fic. So, if it isn't your thing, don't read :)

**103 days to go**

Castiel did not know what to make of the younger Winchester. He had tried to get to know him, following him around and hoping Sam would speak to him, but he quickly learnt that Sam didn’t talk to anyone. He spent his lunchtimes smoking, or hiding from Professor Walker, who was tutoring Sam. Ruby, the Queen of the school, was after him as well. Castiel managed to annoy one of her lackeys, a kid called Jacob, who Castiel was trying to avoid.

Friday’s date had been brilliant. They had gone to the cinema, and Castiel couldn’t quite believe he had ended up with such a good-looking boyfriend. The car was nice, and he at least understood his mark, laughing when he saw that his was a bee. It made sense, but it didn’t stop his brothers from laughing at him every time they could.

He had spoken to them a little about Sam, asking them what he should do. He wondered if Sam felt threatened by Castiel, but Dean didn’t say much about him, and he just couldn’t figure out why not. Castiel wondered all of this as he walked, before he felt someone shove his shoulder. His bag fell to the floor, and the Novak turned to see Jacob standing there, a smug smile on his face. Castiel wasn’t an idiot, he figured this was going to end in a fight, apart from he was a bookworm, not a boxer.

Gabriel, despite his small stature, had always been the one to throw punches. Lucifer was hot-headed, and Michael could defend himself if needed. The three of them had coddled him, meaning he didn’t need to know how to fight. Hence why Jacob’s first punch connected solidly, and Castiel felt his lip burst as he hit the floor. Expecting another, he curled, but someone was pushing through.

‘Leave him alone, Jacob.’ That was Sam’s voice, and he noted how the Winchester was standing between them. Castiel grabbed his bag, watched as Jacob threw a punch that Sam avoided, gripping his arm and twisting hard enough that Jacob fell to his knees, then had his head pushed into a wall. A teacher was shouting, and Sam released Jacob, turning to look at Castiel.

He tried to smile, feeling more blood dribble down his chin. Two teachers appeared, Professor Walker grabbing Sam by the shoulder and dragging him off, while Mrs Cotton instructed both him and Jacob to follow her to the medical room.

**

Castiel was walking through the hallways, his busted lip with a strip across it, having had an icepack on his face. He hadn’t seen Sam, so figured he was being told off by the Professor. Castiel was going to go an explain, say that it wasn’t his fault, that Sam had just been protecting him. When he reached the door, he noted that it was locked, and the blind was drawn. Sam must be in class, he mused, turning away from the door and walking away.

**

He had to walk home, because tonight was the night that all three finished work at the same time, so drove home. He would get home just after them, but the walk wasn’t bad. Had it been raining, he may have considered calling Dean, but he didn’t want him to worry over the bruise. Arriving at the Novak household, he opened the door.

‘Cassie, we’re in here!’ Gabriel called from the living room, so he padded through. Lucifer was the first to see him, basically sprinting across to check his lip. Gabriel was next, guiding him to the couch while Castiel tried to protest, saying he was fine. Michael was by his side, ice in his hand, and Castiel’s face was yet again frozen.

‘What happened?’ His eldest brother demanded, and Castiel felt touched that they cared, but also slightly annoyed. Slowly explaining how Jacob wasn’t a big fan of his, then how he had been knocked to the floor by the punch. He explained that Sam had stepped in, slammed Jacob into a wall, then how Sam had got taken by the Professor while he went to the medical room. He then explained how he went to find Sam, but the classroom was locked and shut up, so he would have to thank him in the morning. He noted that Lucifer’s face twisted slightly when he said this.

‘The same Professor that’s tutoring Sam?’ He asked, and Michael and Gabriel seemed concerned with the answer as well. He nodded, before explaining that, from what little Dean had told him, Sam was an A* student. Castiel presumed he would go to college, it sounded like he was good enough to get there.

‘Make sure you thank him.’ Michael stated, and Castiel assured him that he would. He went to his room, saw that he had a missed call from Dean, and picked the phone up quickly.

‘Dean?’

‘Cas, man, I was worried! Sam texted, said you got in a fight with a guy from school.’ So, Sam had told Dean. He picked up on the fact that Sam said texted, rather than spoken, and he made a note to ask later.

‘It wasn’t much of a fight, just a punch. Sam broke it up pretty quickly.’ He wondered if Dean knew about the smoking, then decided it wasn’t his place to tell Dean that his brother was smoking, so he left the thing alone.

‘You sure you’re alright?’ Castiel assured him he was more than fine, then asked after Sam, surprised to find that Sam was in a music lesson. He asked Dean about it, but his boyfriend just seemed happy that Sam was out of the house doing something. When Dean told him that it was a teacher from school tutoring him, a Professor, Castiel did momentarily do a double-back. Professor Walker was a teacher that specialised in history and maths, not Music. But then again, he was helping Sam get to college, so it wasn’t bad.

**

Dinner came, and he explained what Dean had said to his brothers.

‘What do you know about their parents?’ Michael inquired generally, and Castiel wondered why they were asking. He wondered if it was their protective side, then if it had anything to do with the fact that they weren’t bad-off. Michael was the joint CEO of a marketing company, and both him and Lucifer worked on coding. Gabriel worked with people, analysing them, and was pretty good at reading personalities.

‘Not a lot. Mom died when Dean was little, and they moved away from their Dad.’ It was a little strange, considering how young Dean was, and how Sam had followed, but he didn’t think it was his place to ask. Eventually, they dropped the subject, and Castiel thought about dropping by the Garage tomorrow to see Dean.


	5. Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A friendship begins to form

**102 days to go**

Sam had returned home late, had heard Dean on the phone, then went straight to his room. Turning the shower up to scalding temperature, he stepped under, reaching for his razor. His brother had been so happy about the music lessons, but truth be told, Sam just didn’t want the fight on his record. Azazel had cooked for him, then shown him that he could play the piano. Then Sam realised there was probably something in the food, and that his head was feeling fuzzy.

He had tried to leave, but Azazel had demanded some attention first. Sam had got away with using just his hand, then had crept back to his house. Today, his head hurt like a bitch, and the cuts on his thighs weren’t much better. Walking through the school, he spotted Castiel, and hesitated. Turns out, he didn’t have a lot of choice, because the second the Novak saw him, he was coming across.

‘Hey, I wanted to say thank you for yesterday.’ Sam thought to the piano, the taste of alcohol on Azazel’s breath and to the utter sense of despair, then smiled to Castiel.

‘Don’t mention it.’ He did like Castiel, he was smart, from what Dean had told him.

‘Do you fancy getting lunch later? There’s a great spot in the library.’ Castiel inquired, and Sam honestly felt stumped. Was he supposed to be friends with his brother’s boyfriend? Was that acceptable? Maybe Castiel wanted to make sure Dean was a good boyfriend. In that case, it was Sam’s job to make sure they stayed together.

‘Sure. Sounds good.’

**

Castiel was actually good fun. They had the same tastes in fiction, discussing at length the plotline of GoT, then moving on to discussing if the Lord of the Rings films were better than the books. Castiel then asked if it would be alright if he went to see Dean at the Garage tonight, to which Sam suggested getting his brother some pie, knowing it would make him happy. Castiel thanked Sam for his response, before they moved back to talking.

Sam found himself wondering if being friends with Castiel was possible. Sure, he had some friends, like Meg and Ellen’s daughter, Jo, but he didn’t speak to them a lot. He then wondered if Castiel would really want to be his friend when he found out that Sam killed his Mom, and drove Dean away from their dad. It didn’t sound promising, but Sam thought that he could have this for now, even if it didn’t remain forever.

**

When he got texts in the evening, one from Castiel telling him thank you for the pie advice, another from Dean telling him that Castiel had brought him Pie, Sam realised he had done the right thing. Plus, he had managed to avoid Azazel for the entire day, and that was certainly a good thing. Maybe being friends with Castiel wouldn’t be a bad thing.

**

The lunch meet-ups continued during the week, and the next. Sam found himself actually enjoying them, able to forget about all the other stuff, especially Azazel. It was on the next Friday that Castiel asked if it was alright if he came round to Sam’s, that him and Dean were having a movie-date tonight. Sam said it was fine, that he spent most of his time in his room anyway. He then worried that he sounded like a bit of a weirdo, but Castiel agreed, saying he avoided his elder brothers as well.

‘Does Dean know you smoke?’ Castiel inquired as they walked through the hallways to the lockers, and Sam turned his head sharply, not realising Castiel knew. Oh, what if he told Dean? Sam couldn’t deal without the stress-relief.

‘Don’t worry, I won’t tell Dean. I just wanted to check.’ Castiel stated, and Sam relaxed. Relaxed until Azazel appeared, eyes locking onto Sam’s. He stopped in front of them, and Sam fought the urge to cower back.

‘Sam, I was wondering if I could have a word about last week’s test. You got a B.’ Sam didn’t get a B, but he knew that it was an excuse, and so Sam apologised to Castiel, explained that he would see him later, then followed Azazel back to the classroom.

**

Castiel was in their Apartment. Dean now knew that they were friends, and he seemed quite pleased, so Sam knew he had made the right decision. While Dean was making popcorn for their date, Castiel explored the Apartment, looking at different photos. There was one of Dean, Dad and Mom that he focused on, and Sam felt his heart clench. He only had one photo of him and Mom, one taken three weeks after his birth, but Sam could see the bags under his Mom’s eyes, so he tried not to look too hard.

‘This your Mom and Dad?’ He asked, looking to the photo. Sam nodded, watching Castiel set the photo frame down.

‘How old were you when she died?’ It was spoken gently, and Sam could assume therefore that Dean had told him a little about their parents.

‘Six months old.’ It had only taken six months for the woman that was supposed to love Sam unconditionally to realise that he was bad news. Castiel looked apologetic, placing down the photo and returning to looking around. When the popcorn was done, Sam excused himself to his room, locking the door behind him.

He went to the shower, peeled off the shirt that was stuck to his stomach, staring at the dried spunk that belonged to Azazel. He stepped under the hot spray, reached for the sponge and scrubbed hard, hard enough that his skin was rubbed raw. He tried not to think as he reached for the razor, let his worries bleed away down the sink while he thought about how he didn’t have to survive this for long, he could let go soon. And once he did, everything would be better.

Sneaking out of the house was easy, and he made it to the edge of the woods, lighting a cigarette. The smoke helped him relax, and Sam looked up to the nights-sky, wondering where everything had gone wrong in his life. His last wish was that Dean could be happy, and if Sam had the benefit of having a friend during that time, then who was he to deny that?


	6. A little Birdie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel gets in a fight

**88 days to go**

Castiel was buzzing. Last night had seen an intense make-out on the desk in the Garage, which had left Castiel thoroughly breathless. Today, the happiness was following him, despite the thunder and rain outside. He spotted Sam sitting outside in the courtyard, sheltered from the rain, and made his way across. His friend was smoking, but he didn’t turn away, nor did he judge. Dean had told him a little more about his father, and from what he could gather, he was less than kind to Sam.

Sam was his friend. It was weird, he first thought that they would just hang out because he was dating Sam’s brother, but it quickly became a friendship. They were similar in many ways, and could enjoy each other’s company quite a lot. Sure, Sam was a little reserved, and he still didn’t talk about anything personal, but they could laugh and joke about things.

‘Five minutes to the bell.’ Castiel stated happily, ready to go home. It was Michael’s turn to pick him up today, and it would probably be pasta for dinner, which made his good mood even better. Sam turned his head towards him, hazel eyes focused, and Castiel caught a glimpse of bruising around Sam’s neck. He went to ask, then thought better of it, watched as Sam stubbed the cigarette and tossed it into the bin.

‘Ah, ice cream for dinner.’ Sam said dreamily, and Castiel laughed. The two walked back into the school, collecting the stuff from their lockers before the bell rang. When they stepped out, he spotted Michael in the car, watching him. He grinned, went to say goodbye to Sam, but noted his friend was watching the Professor who was walking across.

‘See you tomorrow?’ Castiel stated, staring at Sam, who spun back. His eyes were wide, like he’d seen a ghost, but a smile quickly formed.

‘Yeah, see you tomorrow.’ Something told Castiel that Sam wasn’t alright, so he looked back to the Professor, who was evidently waiting for Sam.

‘Music lesson?’ He asked, and Sam looked slightly concerned that he knew, before he nodded.

‘Yeah. You should hear me on the piano.’ He joked, before walking across the car lot. Castiel watched for a moment, stared at Professor Walker as he placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder, who shrunk back. Sam did that a lot, tried to appear smaller than he really was, and Castiel thought about that as he walked to the car. When he climbed in, he noticed that Michael was watching Sam as well.

‘Good day at school?’ He asked, putting the car into drive and pulling away. Castiel chatted away, Michael looking amused as he managed to stretch the conversation the entire journey home, and into the living room, where his other brothers were.

‘And your good mood has nothing to do with last night?’ Lucifer said with a snigger, Castiel feeling blood rush to his cheeks at his brother’s insinuation. He slumped onto the couch, throwing a cushion at his elder brother, who ducked. Michael joined the laughter, before Castiel explained that he had Dean was working late tomorrow, so he would be home for dinner, which didn’t usually happen.

‘Does Sam want to join us for dinner, if his brother won’t be home?’ Michael inquired, and Castiel was embarrassed to think that he hadn’t even thought about Sam. He pulled his phone out, wondered if he should text or call, then remembered Sam was at his music lesson. He texted the number, asking if he wanted to come, then put the phone down.

‘Did he reply?’ Lucifer called from the kitchen, where he was helping Michael.

‘No, he’s at a music lesson right now.’ Silence from his brothers, which he noticed happened a lot when he talked about Sam, before he went upstairs to get changed.

**

Sam had said yes later that evening, and Michael had asked if they would want picking up from school. He said they were okay walking, that they would probably go and grab ice cream first, which his brothers smiled at. Castiel promised they would be back for dinner, and with that, he went upstairs.

He already knew the next day was going to be a bad day. Jacob was leaning against the wall outside school, and Castiel knew that something wasn’t right. He lasted until lunchtime, where a girl walked up, dumping her tray at the table he was sitting and joining him. Castiel studied Ruby, wondering why the hell she was here, but decided it wasn’t a good thing to piss of the woman who was the most popular in the school.

‘Ruby.’ He greeted, wishing Sam was here so that he knew what to do. Sam was better at dealing with Ruby and her gang, Castiel just stuttered his way through sentences and looked like an idiot.

‘Hey, Castiel. A little birdie told me that you’re dating Dean Winchester.’ Castiel didn’t ask how she knew, just waited for her to say something.

‘Funny, that you think someone like you is worth someone like him.’ Castiel stood sharply, regretting it when Jacob and Asmos move forwards, and he realised he was outnumbered.

It ended with his face split, two kicks to the chest and food dumped over him before the attackers were thrown off, Sam’s voice filling his ears. A hand helped him up, Ruby still standing there, Sam between them.

‘Back off, Ruby.’ Sam snarled, keeping hold of Castiel. He was glad for the assistance, but was also slightly worried that Sam would get in trouble.

‘Just pointing out that Castiel doesn’t deserve a Winchester, sweetheart. Not even the depressed one.’ She eyed him up and down, and Castiel wondered what she meant by depressed, but his friend was helping him out of his mess. They went to the nurse, who agreed that Sam could take Castiel home. They got outside before Castiel slumped, his nose hurting like hell. Sam dropped both their bags, turning to crouch down.

‘Cas, can I call one of your brothers for you?’ Castiel passed his phone, and Sam went for Michael’s number, presumably because he was the eldest. Now that Castiel was sitting, he had time to see that Sam’s knuckles were bleeding, and he had a nasty bruise on his own face. His shirt was stained with a mixture of blood and food, and Castiel felt bad. He shouldn’t have to worry his friend. He listened to Sam explain to Michael that he had got in a fight, and that Sam had been told to take him home. Eventually, he put the phone down, looking across to Castiel.

‘Your brothers are all at home, Michael’s coming to pick us up. I don’t have to go, if you want me to go home.’ Castiel shook his head, determined to have Sam come back with him. There was no way he was letting Sam walk home like that.  


	7. Moose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam meets the Novaks

**87 days to go**

Michael helped carry Castiel in, Sam bringing their bags. Lucifer and Gabriel were waiting, gasping when they saw the state of their little brother. Sam followed cautiously, but Michael was more concerned with Cas. He undid the shirt, testing the bruises on his stomach until he was sure nothing was broken of fractured. Ice went on both his chest and face, Michael cleaning up the stickiness and Lucifer grabbing clothes for him.

Michael was going in first thing Monday, demanding something be done. He looked to Sam, who didn’t look much better than Castiel.

‘Come here.’ Michael stated, taking the warm water and cloth to Sam, grabbing his hand. The kid flinched, noticeable to Michael, who was starting to suspect that something was going on. Gabriel and Lucifer were watching, and he hoped Gabriel would get a good read on the kid. He washed his knuckles thoroughly, before wiping them with antiseptic. He took a bandage, just because they were still bleeding, and started to wrap.

He didn’t point out that the bruises around his wrist weren’t fresh, just leant enough so that his other brothers could see. Sam stayed quiet, although he thanked him after Michael was done. The Novak looked him over, the bruise on his face wasn’t awful, but it would last for at least a couple of days. He returned to Castiel’s side, telling him he needed to shower, and that Sam was free to do so as well.

Lucifer offered to lend some clothes, and the two disappeared. Michael waited till Lucifer came back down before turning to Gabriel, who nodded.

‘Something’s wrong, definitely.’ He stated, and Michael wasn’t sure how to proceed. Gabriel wandered off, leaving Michael to try and work something out. He couldn’t do anything without proof, but that wouldn’t be hard to get, not if he was searching for it.

**

Sam didn’t eat a lot. Michael noted that his main concern seemed to always be Castiel, like Sam was trying to protect him. Although hardly noticeable, the kid flinched at any loud noise, and ignored his phone when it vibrated. He knew the boy smoked, but he was starting to think it was to handle anxiety, rather than any other reason.

‘How are the music lessons going?’ Lucifer inquired, and Michael hid his smile. His brother did live up to his name sometimes, the three older brothers already presumed they weren’t to do with music. Michael did hope they were, hoped they were entirely mistaken, but he dealt with too many scumbags to not recognise the signs.

‘Good, I’m learning a lot.’ Sam stated, and Lucifer hummed with interest. When Castiel’s phone rang, it was Dean calling, and he left the table quickly to answer. Then, Sam did check his phone, before his smile dipped slightly. Michael was wondering if it was because his brother called Castiel, not Sam. He then wondered if it was something else entirely.

Castiel returned smiling, explaining to Sam that Dean was going to take him to the lake on Sunday. Sam’s smile quickly returned as Castiel told them how he would be back late evening, and then seemed to worry about Sam.

‘You could come?’ He offered, but Sam was quick to decline, stating that he was already busy, but he hoped that Castiel had a good time with Dean.

**

Two days later, with Castiel out of the house, Michael strode into the kitchen. Lucifer was already up, shooting him a lazy smile, and the two settled down. Upstairs, they heard a crashing sound, then Gabriel swearing loudly. Intrigued, the two brothers headed up the stairs, wondering what had upset Gabriel so much.

They paused outside his room, heard him swearing thoroughly, a long list of profanities that had Michael hoping there wasn’t a God. Lucifer knocked, and Gabriel fell silent. Then, the door was burst open, a very angry short man standing on the other side. He looked positively fuming, and they followed him into the room. Furniture was strewn around, and Gabriel was angrily pacing.

Just because he was short did not mean that either him or Lucifer wanted to get involved with his temper. Gabriel was quick, fast and aggressive, and it really wasn’t a good idea to piss him off. Eventually, the youngest of the three slumped, the anger dying out.

‘Ready to tell us what’s wrong?’ Michael calmly asked, feeling like he was the only sane one. Gabriel groaned, flopping onto his bed and burying his head under the pillows. That was a no, so Lucifer decided he would speak up about his ideas for finding out if this Professor following Sam was a bad one. It included bugging his office, or hacking Sam’s phone. Michael listened, wondering if they could ask the boy without him freaking.

‘I figure that Sam’s a flight risk if we ask outright.’ Another loud groan from their younger brother had both him and Lucifer looking across. Gabriel rose his head, looking angry, but didn’t speak.

‘Tell us what’s wrong, Gabby.’ Lucifer stated, and, as usual, the nickname worked. Gabriel sighed, shuffled so he was sitting on the end of the bed, then looked right at them.

‘I have an issue.’ He stated, and Lucifer snorted with laughter.

‘You’ve got many issues, kid.’ Gabriel flipped him off, before Michael told him to continue, wondering what could be so bad that Gabriel was building this up. His brother was anything but secretive, this was just so unlike him. Maybe not the drama part, he did love being the centre of attention. Gabriel reached for his shirt, lifted it slightly, then tugged his sweatpants down to his hip.

It took Michael a moment to realise what he was seeing, but when he did, his heart clenched. The symbol was, without a doubt, a soulmark. But the issue came with the symbol itself, a set of antlers. Michael thought back to Friday night, when Gabriel had called Sam a Moose the second he walked through the door.

‘Shit.’ Was all that Lucifer said, and Gabriel nodded slowly. This complicated things, Michael mused.


	8. Wonky Stickman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything's about to go wrong

**84 days to go**

Sam looked at the stupid mark, trying to understand how this had happened. It was almost impossible, but now it was going to be really hard to hide this from whoever it was. The little set of wings that sat on his chest were pretty, a golden colour, but Sam didn’t think this was a good thing. In fact, this was an awful thing.

He took a long drag on the cigarette before stubbing it out, walking into the school. His first stop was trying to find Castiel, but he was interrupted by Azazel, who was walking across. Sam couldn’t find it in him to care, watching the door to the classroom lock.

‘I’ve missed you.’ Azazel stated sweetly, fingers tracing Sam’s neck. He glared, then felt the fingers stop. Azazel was staring at the mark, he realised. Too late to try and cover it up, the hand tightened, hard enough to cut off his air. Sam gasped, felt a hand wrap around his hip with bruising pressure. This wasn’t entirely how he wanted his day to go, he thought miserably.

**

He found Castiel at lunch, his eldest brother by his side. Michael smiled at him, which was nice, so he smiled back. He then turned instantly to Castiel, checking the bruise on the side of his face quickly. It didn’t look bad, just slightly yellow, so Sam could relax. Cas was fine, Dean was fine, everyone was fine. He thought momentarily about telling his friend that he had a soulmark, then remembered that whoever his partner was, they were just going to be really disappointed.

The day progressed with Castiel asking him what he was doing during spring break, three weeks of Sam away from Azazel sounded like Heaven, but he didn’t say that. Instead, he talked generally about going for long walks in the woods, not burning them down with cigarette stubs. It made his friend laugh, and Sam didn’t notice Azazel listening, so it was good.

**

Dean was home when Sam returned, a bright smile on his face. Sam, for once, agreed to dinner with his brother, sitting down and tucking in to a nice burger. Dean talked about the shop, about his fates with Castiel, about how lucky he was. He talked about fishing at the lake, which Sam already knew about from Cas’s point of view, but he let his brother speak.

‘Anything going on with you, Sammy?’ Oh, how funny it would be to tell the truth, Sam mused. He didn’t, just smiled at his brother and told him he got an A on his last test, his brother ruffling his hair. Sam returned to his room later that nice, scrubbed himself raw in the shower, then dug the knife back into his thighs. Once the pain inside his mind had retreated, Sam glanced to the soulmark. Shit.

**

Gabriel swore, staring at the lines that appeared on his thighs. They didn’t hurt, nor did they bleed, but he wasn’t stupid. This first day of having the mark, and he already had bruising all around his throat, a handprint over his hip, and now cuts covering his upper thighs. He knew that it meant Sam was doing this, so he was determined that once the holidays began, he would sort this out. Would sit Sam down, tell him that this had to stop. That he could help.

Five years age gap between him and the kid, which was slightly annoying, but he couldn’t deny that Moose was attractive. Dark hair, pretty Hazel eyes, and a tall body. Muscular, but he seemed to hide it under layers of flannel and hoodies, which was slightly depressing. Gabriel felt a flare of jealousy at the thought of someone hurting Sam, then remembered that Castiel didn’t know Sam had a mark, so the kid hadn’t told him. In fact, Gabriel didn’t even know if Sam knew they were soulmates.

The Novak slumped, waiting for Michael and Lucifer. Neither were too impressed by the marks, or the fact that Gabriel lay in his boxers complaining to them about how they needed to shake Sam, make him understand that this was not a healthy coping mechanism. They reminded Gabriel that he had dealt with many trauma victims, and therefore knew that Sam needed to be treated gently. The Novak huffed, thinking that technically, this was his mate, therefore he should be allowed to shake him.

**

By the end of the week, Gabriel was happy to know that the evidence was starting to stack up against this guy. He had prior offences, which was rare for a teacher, but he seemed to have managed to bury them. Michael had managed to get footage of him driving Sam to his home, then proved that he had no talent in music as far as the records could show.

Gabriel happily posed for photos, Michael grunting with annoyance as he had to keep taken pictures of all the bruises that appeared on Gabriel’s form. They had told Gabriel he could talk to Sam once they sorted this out, once they had the evidence and then went to Sam, sat down with him and explained. Castiel was still in the dark, providing them with helpful information, like what days Sam went to his music lessons. They matched up with when bruises appeared.

When they learnt that Sam had apparently got a B in his last test, presumably why Azazel had seen him, Gabriel had almost lost his temper. Lucifer had kicked him under the table, reminded him that neither Castiel nor Sam knew that Gabriel was his soulmate. But the thought of Sam doing this for grades… it made him sick. His stomach turned, so, in an attempt to cheer up his soulmate, he would doodle. Little flowers and ants and weird stick people on his lower legs, and throughout the last week of school, and into the first holiday week, he would do this every evening.

Occasionally, he got things back. A little smiley face, a stick man to join Gabriel’s wonky ones. It hurt, knowing that Sam drew back after he went in the shower and split open his thighs, but he didn’t point that out. Sometimes, he drew little thumbs up, hoping it cheered him up. Gabriel didn’t know yet if Sam knew it was him, but he was counting down the days till he could tell him. Unfortunately, the chance didn’t come.


	9. I'll Find You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, it basically is going downhill from here

**60 days to go**

Sam walked through the woods, cigarettes in his pocket, grinning to himself. He wasn’t overly excited about having a soulmate, but his seemed nice. The doodles distracted him, as did the game of Hangman played last night. All in all, Sam was enjoying it more than he thought he would. Whoever he or she was, Sam hoped they could forgive him for everything he had done.

He took the pen from his pocket, sitting down and writing on his arm. The words he chose were, ‘Do you like woods?’ He waited a moment, studying the trees, grinning when he saw the writing appearing,

‘Depends, is it your wood?’ He chuckled, before a twig snapped behind him, causing his attention to turn. His eyes widened when he saw who it was, and he ran. Legs hurtling over roots and bushes, desperately trying to write on his arm as he ran, the letters H E L P forming, but they were wobbly. Something hit his back, and he stopped, turning to pull out a dart. His vision started to blur, and he didn’t have time to see what his soulmate wrote back, because Azazel appeared. Hell really did have a face, he thought miserably.

**

When Sam rose his head, the first thing that became apparent was that he wasn’t in the woods. In fact, he was pretty sure he was in the trunk of a car. His mouth was gagged, hands tied behind him, feet strapped together with tape. It was dark, stuffy, and Sam tried to forget memories like this with his Dad. Instead, Sam remembered how Dean had told him that the back lights were the best place to try and kick, so he began to fight.

By the time his legs grew numb, the car stopped, and Sam blinked as light poured in. Hands gripped his shirt, lifting him out of his temporary prison. He tried to fight, but a cloth was covering his nose, a sickly sweet smell taking over his mind. He managed to crawl a small way, listening to the sound of running water, before his eyes shut and Sam fell unconscious yet again.

**

It was dark. The chains wrapped around his wrists were uncomfortable, the lack of clothing did nothing to hide his mark, nor his cuts. Sam groaned, rolled slightly onto his side, looking around. He couldn’t see much, a set of stairs and faint light coming from under the door. He realised quickly that that was his best chance of escape, but he couldn’t get out of the chains. Speaking of, he had one wrapped around his neck as well, and a gag in his mouth.

Azazel. He remembered seeing him in the woods, right after he had wrote to his soulmate. That caused him to look down at his arm, but he could see nothing, no writing, and he wondered momentarily if he imagined the entire thing. Sam felt the chains constricting him, tried to cry out, then ended up curling in on himself.

With nothing left to pray for, Sam Winchester sobbed, prayed that someone put him out of his misery.

**

Sam rose his head, his throat sore from dehydration, listening to the boots descending the steps. He focused on the man, on his teacher, studying him as he walked across. He had a bottle of water in his hands, a smug smile on his face, and Sam realised that he probably should have told Dean. God, Dean must be worried, he thought. Had he realised he was gone yet? Had Castiel? Did his mate understand the message?

‘Thirsty?’ Azazel inquired, and Sam shuffled onto his knees, nodding. Azazel placed the water down, and Sam’s heart sunk, watching as he unbuckled his belt. He wasn’t that thirsty, he decided, which resulted in the belt becoming acquainted with his body, unprotected by clothing. Sam screamed, praying someone could hear, but the gag muffled it. When he could no longer move, and he was pretty sure his back had been torn, Azazel leant down. The gag was unclipped, and the man moved towards him.

Sam bared teeth, which, in hindsight, wasn’t a good idea. The muzzle that was clamped round held his mouth open, so he couldn’t bite, and Sam dug his fingernails down into his thighs. How he could have been so stupid, why didn’t he tell Dean? Eventually, after almost choking, Azazel pulled away. Sam ignored the horrible taste, watched as the water bottle was opened. He couldn’t help but lunge, Azazel stroking his hair softly as Sam guzzled down the water.

‘Such a good boy.’ Azazel praised, and Sam didn’t even care, too busy drinking his fill. He could manage this, he just had to trust that Dean would find him. He wouldn’t abandon him, not like this, right?

**

When he next woke, hands were reaching for skin, and Sam fought. He kicked, bit, struggled. But it didn’t seem to be doing a lot, and Azazel was heavy, and Sam was hungry. His body hurt, and eventually he just gave in, crying softly.

Blood turned out to be a good ink. He wrote carefully, dipping his finger into blood, tracing it across his pale skin. The words I’M SORRY on his forearm, before he curled up, waiting for death or for rescue. Either would be nice, he thought.

It was three hours later, according to the internal clock in Sam’s mind, that he figured out someone had replied. His soulmate, he thought happily, staring down as his eyes adjusted to the low light. Sam could have cried, knowing that he wasn’t alone in this dark basement, and looking at the words, he didn’t feel so lonely.

**No need. Where are you?**

Sam sat up slowly, ignoring the ringing in his head and the soreness of his throat. He found himself smiling, even if he knew that he couldn’t tell his mate where he was, it meant that whoever it was knew he was missing. Someone would find him, he thought cheerily, before realising all the blood was dry. He turned slightly, finger nails digging into the cut on his thighs that he had made, redrawing blood to the surface. It stung, but he needed the blood to talk.

_I don’t know. It’s dark_

This was ridiculous, he mused, writing words like WOODS and CAR and HOUSE and BASEMENT? onto his arm, hoping that the person would understand the almost-illegible writing. Once he ran out of blood, and space on his arms, he slumped back down. Upstairs, he could hear the faint sound of music. Sam watched writing appear, grinning happily despite the bad situation.

**I’ll find you, Moose**


	10. Cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title of the Chapter is appropriate

**41 days to go**

His mate, who by now was pretty obvious in their identity, had not found him. Sam wasn’t stupid, only one person called him Moose. He hadn’t really thought much about Gabriel Novak when he’d seen him, too worried about Castiel, but now he thought about it, he was glad that he was his mate. He did feel bad, knowing he was going to die before he got the chance to properly meet him, so he made sure to tell him daily that he was sorry. Sometimes, especially over the last two days, Sam had found himself writing things he didn’t even really realise he was saying.

Things about wishing he was dead, rather than stuck in this hole. Writing about the bruising that littered his body, about how hungry he was, how dark it was. How scared his mind was becoming, how he longed for someone to hold him. How he missed his brother, really missed Dean, and wished he hadn’t been so horrible to him.

How he probably should have just died after Mary, or had never been born at all, saving his mother and therefore Dean from this unfortunate fate. Sam didn’t have much else to do but pick at the wounds, inflicted by himself and by his Professor, who was slowly driving him insane. Sam could deal with the beatings, could do with the pain, because it grounded him. He could almost stand the touching, even if it wasn’t the kind he wanted, because the sound of someone else’s voice down in Sam’s Hell was enough to keep him alive.

The worst times were the bit in-between. Where Sam would be all alone, would cry, scream, wear his fingernails down as he scraped the concrete floor. He begged, pleaded, and nothing happened. It was the same pattern, Azazel would come, he would do whatever Azazel planned, then he would be given some water. The food was often dropped on the floor, which Sam didn’t have enough sense to hate, licking the dirty concrete to try and stop the hunger in his belly.

It did make him slightly happy to know that Azazel had to clean out the bucket he’d been given, but the Professor never looked mad, like Sam was a pet rather than a human, and so it was acceptable. The piano music was probably the worse. He would play for hours, and the music rang out, and Sam would scream and sob and try to ignore the way it bounced around his mind, the darkness driving him insane.

He missed Dean. In moments where he lay on the floor, still, he would bring up memories. The happiest were the earliest, where Dean would look after him. He even thought about his Dad, because he did have a couple of happy memories. He thought about Castiel, and their lunches in the library. Thought about the feeling of satisfaction as he punched the bullies that hurt his friend.

He thought about the apartment, how if he got out of here, he’d never take a bed for granted. Sam had to remind himself to move, to keep exercising the muscles that moaned at the movement, made sure that if someone found him, he could walk out. His feet hurt, the floor wasn’t even, and for the first couple of days, Sam had tried to pull at the restraints. The one around his neck had rubbed him raw, and he hoped that not all injuries were transferred to his mate, because Gabriel wouldn’t look very pretty right now.

Sam had thought about trying to break the soulmate bond. He thought about it, purely on the basis that he was hurting Gabriel, making him see the marks Azazel put on him, and therefore he wished he could get rid of it. He didn’t want anyone else suffering because of him. Sam rolled onto his back, looked up at the ceiling, then listened as the piano music stopped.

When the door to the basement opened, Sam watched, blinking back the light. Azazel was carrying a bucket, which wasn’t the one that was Sam’s, so he was instantly concerned. He had to scrub the words off of his arms, sometimes lick it clean, but when Azazel put the bucket down, Sam flinched.

Hands took off the remaining clothing, and Sam kicked and screamed and tried to bite, but something was clipped around his head. It held him in place, stopped him from being able to do much more than groan and growl. Azazel pinned his body down, a sick, happy look on his face. The water was freezing, Sam crying out as it hit his skin, before the man began to scrub his body. He whimpered ridiculously, felt stupid as the man touched all over him, scrubbed at his skin. Then, he was moved to the other side of the basement, and rechained on the other side.

It was nice, he thought, to be out of the water. It wasn’t nice, however, for Azazel to cover him in his scent as soon as he had rechained Sam. By the time the muzzle had been unchained, Sam’s body ached, and his stomach was sticky. He watched the man stand up, walking across to the door with a look of satisfaction on his face. Sam didn’t respond to it, just stared at him, watched the light fade.

**Moose, what happened?**

The words appeared about an hour later, and Sam didn’t have the energy to reply, just curled up in the corner of the cell and tried to forget about the way the basement looked smaller, the light levels seemed lower, and his body seemed frailer. The last one, he thought sadly, was probably true. That thought made him chuckle weakly, staring at his ankle, where one mark remained the same. He supposed Gabriel kept drawing over it, the tiny flower. It reminded him of the game of Hangman, and the dodgy stick people.

In that moment, Sam Winchester was far away from the Basement, thinking about woods and stickmen and the taste of his brother’s pancakes. Upstairs, unbeknownst to him, Azazel was worried. The Police and FBI were getting closer to him every day, and he worried that he wouldn’t have Sam for much longer. He could keep going and hope that they didn’t find him, or he could leave the boy and flee. Of course, he would leave Sam alive, but he didn’t think they would find him. Plus, Azazel wasn’t done yet. He needed just a couple more weeks, that was all. The Professor smiled to himself, rose the glass of red wine to his lips, then looked to the far wall.

Pictures of students, his previous ones, who had died. He hadn’t meant for it to happen, but they were sometimes so fragile. Sam was stronger, he thought, sipping the wine. Sam would last longer, and Azazel would finally have his fun. He put the glass down, moved his fingers to the keys of the piano, smiling happily as music filled his retreat.


	11. Skeletons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skeletons. Won't be updating for a couple of days, trip to hospital, but I'll get back as soon as possible!

**12 Days to go**

Sam giggled, and Azazel smiled fondly. The darkness was gone, Sam was seated on the Professor’s lap, listening to him play the piano. Sam’s mind was far away, not really listening to the music that still made him scream. Hands roamed his bare skin, touching and prodding places, but Sam could not find the energy to fight. Instead, he allowed Azazel’s lips to hit his, guzzling down the wine that passed through his lips.

‘Good boy.’ His teacher praised, and Sam smiled, even though his mind screamed. But Sam couldn’t go back down there, would do anything to preserve the time outside the basement. He knew it was wrong, knew how ashamed he should be, but Sam was doing this to survive. If he had to stay down in the dark for much longer, he was going to wrap the chain around his throat and squeeze until he couldn’t think anymore.

Sam didn’t bother replying to Gabriel anymore, not after his messages had become more and more hard to write, his mind screaming as it thought to the life he was missing. Azazel shifted Sam so that he was firmly placed over his crotch, and Sam tensed. This was the only thing he didn’t like. General touching was alright, but when he threatened to do that…

‘It’s alright, Samuel. You’re not ready yet.’ Sam shuddered, before Azazel resumed playing.

**

He screamed, thrashing as he was carried back down the steps. He knew it had to end, that he had to be returned to his Hell, but he didn’t want to go. He begged, pleaded, promised Azazel that he would be willing, that he would sleep with him. It made his stomach churn, and as soon as the door was shut, Sam threw up the wine that he had been fed. He sobbed, fingers digging into his thighs, the part of him that still had enough fat to squeeze.

It didn’t matter, because his nails were blunt from scraping the floor, and Sam couldn’t cut his skin. He bit it instead, trying to stop his mind from going insane, even though he was pretty sure it already had. The chain around his neck looked tempting, and Sam ran forwards with all the energy he could muster. The chain on his neck snapped tight, knocking the air out of him, and he hit the floor. Thankfully, darkness closed in, and Sam slept.

**

‘Good boy.’ Sam preened under the praise, smiling up to the man that he was kneeling in front of. Azazel patted his head fondly, before he went back to playing the piano, Sam shifting his knees to alleviate the growing pressure. The heat in his mouth was uncomfortable, but Azazel had promised him that he could eat outside of the basement if he managed to keep the teacher’s cock in his mouth for long enough. He hadn’t specified a time, so Sam just sat dutifully, wondering what his dinner would be. He was starving.

The music filtered through, a different tune than normal, and Sam knew that was not a good thing. Azazel played the same thing, repeatedly. Sam risked a glance to the wall, looked to his portrait on it. There were others, but he hadn’t met any other children here, and it just made his stomach curl tighter. He wasn’t the first, and Sam was sure he wouldn’t be the last.

After another hour and a half, it became painful. Sam was shifting, and Azazel’s playing kept faltering, like he was struggling to concentrate. The thought of dinner kept him on his knees, but eventually he slipped slightly. He gasped, tried to rectify the situation, but Azazel was standing up, tucking himself away. Sam found tears streaming down his face, but he didn’t fight as Azazel started to lead him to the basement.

‘Sam, do you wish to be a good boy again?’ He inquired, and the look could almost be considered caring. Sam nodded, watery eyes pleading with the man in front of him. Azazel hesitated, and Sam realised he was thinking.

‘I suppose, I could allow you to stay. But you’d have to prove your worth.’ Sam thought about a nice hot meal, thought about staying in the light, and realised he would do anything. Azazel seemed to realise that, and a nice smile appeared. It wasn’t the cruel ones that he received before a beating, or the ones of lust when fingers tightened around his throat, this was just a happy smile.

‘You’re such a good boy, Samuel.’ The praise did weird things to his mind, he thought as Azazel led him away from the piano. Sam had never been in a room other than the Piano Room and the Basement, but he followed Azazel to the stairs. His muscles didn’t work very well, so he was carried up them. When they reached the top, Sam was placed down. His legs wobbled, but he followed Azazel.

There were so many rooms. He paused in front of one, wanting to know what was behind the door. Each room had a nameplate on it, and Sam realised they were the same names that were on the wall below the portraits. These must be the others’ rooms, he thought. Azazel smiled, turning to him as he stopped.

‘Would you like to see, Sam?’ He did want to see, and he nodded his head. Azazel turned the handle, and Sam stepped into the room with the nameplate Emily Walker, looking in. It was oddly musty, an odd smell that hit him, and the room was untouched. Sam turned his attention to the canopy bed, before his mind took a little while to comprehend the sight. He found his mouth opening, a scream coming out, a high-pitched desperate sound.

The body on the bed was now mostly a skeleton, and the clothes and hair hung off her, and oh god Sam felt the floor give way beneath his feet. A skeleton. It had been a girl, and a child, if the size was anything to go off. Sam wasn’t that small, but he was skinny, he thought miserably. Would that be all that was left of him?

He was carried, his vision focusing on the other doors, realising that they must all have skeletons in. There were a lot, he thought as a door was opened and Azazel carried him across the threshold. He lay still as he was put down, looking to the nameplate on the door as Azazel shut it. Sam saw his name, but it did not scare him, not as much as the fact that Azazel was stalking towards him.

‘I think you’re ready, my boy.’ Azazel stated, fingers brushing Sam’s cheek, and the boy looked to the ceiling. If death was how this ended, he figured he would probably be alright with that. He hoped the other children were happy, he hoped that they found peace. If they did, then maybe there was hope for Sam. That was a happy thought, and Sam found his mind doing the thing where it slipped away. Hands took off what little clothing he had been wearing, and Sam felt like he was basically a skeleton already.


	12. Detective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys, the hospital trip didn't go well. Enjoy the chapter, Kudos and Comments keep me going! :)

**0 days to go**

Sam tried to raise his head, lips opening to try and speak. They didn’t for syllables, not anymore, he didn’t know how to. His throat hurt, the rope that had been wrapped around him might have done more damage than Sam first thought. Azazel hadn’t been down to the basement in what felt like days, and Sam knew that he was going to die alone in this basement.

Silence turned out to be the most haunting thing. He had tried to keep Azazel’s favour, but six days after he had first been taken into the room with his nameplate, Azazel had walked him to the stairway. Sam had stared at the rope hanging from it, and had thought he was going to die. He was going to be left hanging in the house in the middle of nowhere, and then he was going to be in the room and left to rot.

He hadn’t been left to hang for long. Clutching at the fibres of the rope, Azazel had cut him free, and Sam had dropped. He had watched his teacher tie a new rope, but Sam hadn’t been to try that one. He had been left in the basement, as Azazel had got fed up. The piano didn’t play anymore, and Sam wondered if maybe he was already dead. That would be nice, he thought. But the pain didn’t go away, and so Sam presumed he was wasting away.

In the end, death hurt more than Sam thought. He was sick, but it was bile, and it didn’t stop. He stayed curled up on the floor, chains close to his body, and waited. But death had patience, and Sam was not first on the list. He waited, until eventually he became too weak to even breathe, and his throat gave in. His eyes flicked shut, the pain getting too much, and Sam eventually passed out.

Crowley MacLeod was proud to be on the case. Proud, but worried. When Azazel’s identity had been opened up, and they had found out he had worked in thirteen different states, with thirteen children going missing. Crowley still remembered Dean Winchester’s face when he found out that twelve children had gone missing before Sam.

Crowley got to know the Winchester, a man called Bobby Singer, and the Novak family. He had worked hard, raided eight different buildings, and could see slowly that Dean was giving up hope. He did feel sorry for him, he’d had his twentieth birthday with his mate, but with his baby brother missing. Crowley had worked hard, and they eventually had a lead on a house purchased forty-eight years ago by a person that, on record, knew Azazel.

He didn’t hold much hope. Leaving Dean Winchester and the family in the Station with one of his communicators, Crowley led the team out. When they arrived at the household, Alpha team secured the perimeter. This was his case, so he got to lead them in. The first thing was the smell. It was awful, and it didn’t take long to find the body hanging. Azazel was still recognisable, which was good, because it meant they were in the right place.

The rooms upstairs were the next thing he found. The men looked like they were going to throw up, each room had a different skeleton at a different stage of decay. Crowley stared at Sam’s nameplate, looked to his men, then unlocked the door. The bed was empty, and part of him relaxed, but the other was worried. Crowley scoured the downstairs rooms, not liking the portraits. He didn’t like the half empty bottle of wine either, but he walked past.

The basement smelt like death. A mixture of vomit, piss and decay hung in it, and one man threw up. He gave him a look, before pushing down. His heart fell when he saw the skeleton curled up on the far side, and although he was unrecognisable, Crowley knew that it must be Sam Winchester. The men looked equally horrified, staring at the lifeless corpse. It was his mission, so Crowley moved, ready to undo the chains with the keys that hung on the basement door. He couldn’t imagine having to tell Dean Winchester that they had found his brother, not when this was the scene. No amount of training could prepare him for this.

He suddenly wished Azazel wasn’t dead. He undid the chains around the cold feet first, then moved to the wrists. The boy was naked, so, out of respect, he took of the jacket over his bulletproof vest and draped it across the skinny boy. When he reached for the neck, a faint moan rippled across the room. The men, including Crowley, stopped.

Hesitant hands reached, fingers brushing across the pulse point. Nothing, then… A beat. Steady, but weak.

‘GET ME THE PARAMEDICS!’ He shouted, undoing the boy and scooping him up, not caring that he shouldn’t move him. He ran, taking the stairs two at a time as he sprinted back through the household, carrying the boy to the waiting team.

**

He walked into the room and delivered the news, Dean Winchester bursting into tears. His smile was shaky, as was Bobby Singer’s, but the Novaks were just cheering. He escorted them to the hospital in the Police Cruisers, watching as Dean was allowed in, as were the others, but that was a one off. Sam, until conscious, was only allowed family. He watched Dean start sobbing again, staring at Sam.

He could understand. The boy had wires going in and out, a mask over his face. They listened as the Doctor explained that they were unsure if Sam would be able to speak again due to the severity of the lassaration around his neck. They also went on to explain that he would, if he woke, require physical therapy. Counselling was a given. Crowley was surprised when he was pulled into a hug by Bobby, Dean beaming at him as he took his brother’s bony hand, stroking it softly.

‘I’ll be waiting for him to wake, I’ll need to speak once he’s conscious.’ He said it like a definite, giving a nod to the Doctor as he walked out. The last thing he heard was Castiel Novak comforting Dean, assuring him Sam would wake up. After the horror that Sam Winchester must have endured, Crowley wasn’t entirely sure that Sam would want to wake.

When he heard the long steady beep begin, shouts from nurses and doctors as they flooded into the room, Crowley was the one to watch as Dean was pulled away from the room. Screams echoed, possibly Dean’s, and Gabriel was on the floor clutching his hip like the mark was burning off, and Crowley waited. Waited to see if the boy would live.


	13. Building Blocks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recovery, or loss?

Sam figured he was dreaming, because this certainly seemed like a nice place. He stood still, looking up at his big brother as the sea lapped at their feet. Dean looked down at him, a smirk on his face.

‘Hey, Little brother.’ Sam smiled, took a sidestep closer to his brother. After all this time, he missed Dean. He needed him.

‘Dean.’ Sam stated, eyes filling with tears. Typical Dean, he laughed and ruffled his hair.

‘No Chick-flic moments, Sammy.’ Sam gave in, allowing one tear to slip as he looked out to the sea.

‘Am I dead? Is this heaven?’ Dean chuckled, but didn’t look down.

‘I wouldn’t be going to heaven, Sammy.’ Sam conceded to that thought, looking around. He felt like this couldn’t be Hell, maybe he was stuck. A faint beeping sound could be heard, and he looked around. Nothing.

‘I miss you, De.’ He stated, and Dean smiled slightly. He pulled him in for a one-armed hug, before pressing a kiss to his forehead.

‘Then open your eyes, Little brother.’ Sam looked up, and, like always, did as told.

**

When Sam opened his eyes, he first focused on Dean. His brother looked ill, dark bags under his eyes, a permanent frown etched onto his forehead. He was asleep in an uncomfortable-looking chair, and Sam realised he was lying down. The door opened quite suddenly, and the Nurse looked shocked, going to speak. Sam shook his head slightly, nodding to Dean.

When she got close enough, her voice was a whisper.

‘My name’s Alice, I’m your nurse. How are you feeling, Sam?’ Sam thought about it, catalogued each pain in his body, before finding the big issues.

‘S-s-sore.’ That was hard. Really hard. But she looked astounded, a bright smile on her face.

‘We didn’t think you’d be able to speak. Speech therapy will help you recover your voice, and physical therapy will recover the rapid muscle loss. Then there’s Counselling, but we can talk more about that later.’

‘W-w-what…’ He trailed off, and she smiled sympathetically, before Dean stirred. The Nurse excused herself, stating that she was going to go and get the Detective working on his case. Dean’s eyes opened, and Sam watched as he sat bolt upright, staring at him.

‘Sammy?’ He looked right at him, and Sam opened his mouth, but the D-sound was really hard.

‘D-d-Dean-n.’ His brother pounced, tears already falling, and Sam tried to get closer to his brother who was now holding him, but his heart monitor was beeping quicker as he tried to stay close, worried this was going to fall away before Dean was talking.

‘Easy, Sam, easy little brother. Deep breaths.’ He listened, taking longer breaths as he was spoken to. It was better, he thought, now that Dean was holding him. He didn’t have to worry, he didn’t have to think. Everything was okay.

**

Dean had been kicked out, and Sam knew the Novaks were outside as well. Sam had been introduced to Crowley, the detective on his case, and Sam was writing down the information that they needed. When they asked about the notebook, the one Sam had only seen once, he told Crowley that he would need to go back to the house to get it for them. The Detective looked unsure, but his superiors made the decision for him.

The Doctors weren’t happy. From the shouting outside, he figured Dean wasn’t that happy either. Sam sighed, watched someone bring him a wheelchair, Crowley walking in. Sam was helped to the bathroom by one of the Nurses, was dressed in soft clothing that was comfy, then was wheeled out. He spotted his brother first, eyes focusing onto the green. Sam cursed internally at how weak his body was, watching his hand shake as he offered it out to his brother, who relaxed to the touch.

Castiel hugged him, but it was soft and careful and by the time it was over, Crowley was pushing them on. Sam wanted to speak to Gabriel, to apologise for everything, but now wasn’t the time. The group were being transported by a large van, and Sam sat still, staring out of the window. When the house came into view after a four hour drive, Sam found his heart speeding up out of instinct. He hadn’t seen the outside, only the inside, but it was prettier than he expected. He was wheeled out by the Detective, and his brother’s footsteps were close behind, so he was alright. He had a pad of paper on his lap in case he needed to write to them, but as he was pushed into the hallway, Sam just looked.

The stairway loomed upwards, somehow the house seemed dead now that he wasn’t in it. His eyes moved to the holding on the ceiling, knowing that was where he had hung, where Azazel had later hung himself. Upstairs, the other children that he had taken, and Sam remembered seeing Emily’s body on the bed. He pushed back the thought, nodding to the main room. He was surprised how little was touched, although he supposed they’d already taken the forensics. He watched his brother and friend explore the room, the others following, faces focusing on the portraits. Sam was happy they were still there, he thought, as he pushed out of the chair.

Neither the Detective nor Dean looked happy as Sam wobbled across, tracing his fingers along Emily’s picture. He had been right, she was a small girl, probably no older than twelve in the image. Pretty blonde hair, bright green eyes and a smile that shone. Sam wondered how long she’d lasted, how long she had been missing before she’d found her death. He wanted to know how, wanted to know if she’d been kicked off the top of the hallway as he had.

‘Sam, you said in a preliminary report that the piano was used as conditioning, as out psychologist put it.’ His brother had been told that as well, Sam had listened to the report she had given. She called it a form of training, said that his mind programmed the piano to be an escape from the real world, that it was what sent the children he had into a trance. Sam didn’t really understand, but he remembered the fuzziness in his head and the desire to curl up next to Azazel, so that wasn’t too far off.

The piano still stood in the room, which was lucky, he thought. He gave a nod to Crowley, who wrote something down, then looked to the portrait Sam was staring at.

‘Her name was Emily Walker.’ Crowley provided, and Sam nodded, already knowing that. Crowley must have understood, because he asked,

‘Did you know her?’ Sam turned, looking for the pad of paper. It was a long walk, but it was cut short by Gabriel, who had already picked it up and walked across. Sam paused, studying the older man for a moment, before he bowed his head in thanks. He didn’t try to talk, it would take too long and he’d just look stupid. Gabriel gave a sad smile, before walking back to his brothers.

Sam concentrated, even though his arms still hurt and his wrists were swollen from the cuffs that held him down. The words were a little messy, but he was glad he had written them.

**Found her room**

Crowley paused, and Sam could tell that they had all presumed that Sam didn’t know about the rooms upstairs. He hadn’t said anything about Azazel taking him up there, partly because it still hurt his mind when he thought about it. They knew from the rope marks that Sam had been hung, but he would need to explain that it was the same place. He sighed in frustration, wishing he had his voice.


End file.
